


Slow and Steady

by AivaRobinson



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dadster, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Promise, Recovery, and forgiveness and family bonding, just the story of a scientist and his subject/son, this is entirely hurt/comfort, tiny-scientists, tw: PTSD, tw: child abuse, tw: medical trauma and bad science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-21 08:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17638910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AivaRobinson/pseuds/AivaRobinson
Summary: Gaster hadn’t realized the small skeleton in his lab was sentient until it was too late. Far, far too late. He had to make it right.A story about recovery, forgiveness, self-forgiveness, and healing. Hurt with plenty of comfort along the way.(takes place in the tiny-scientists universe by potato-arts on tumblr)





	1. Hurt

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [tiny-scientists](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/454055) by potato-arts. 



> This is my project for fun, so it’s completely unedited and written pretty fast. All the same, I hope you enjoy! There’s a long journey ahead. And if you read, go check out tiny-scientists . tumblr . com ! It’s a lovely blog run by a lovely person, with an engaging story and great character development.

He hadn’t realized that insides could look so different. This was different than lab-inside. Lab-inside was cold and hard and bright. This-inside was warm and soft and cluttered, and he cautiously ventured further in. He moved defensively away when he heard the click of a door behind him, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to breathe.

_A tongue clicking thoughtfully, fingers tapping against a desk ponderously, a scalpel clinking down on a metal tray dangerously._

Sans made a quiet sound, like a hurt animal, as he pressed against the wall. He didn’t know why he was here. He knew that scary-scientist-G looked hurt one day when Sans talked and never stopped, words spilling out and out and out until he was gasping for breath but he kept going, had to keep going, couldn’t be quiet again. He’d seen the panic, the shock, and he’d seen the scalpel fall down. Talking meant not hurting, talking meant he was real, but he’d been told to be quiet as he walked and he didn’t know. He was out and it was different but different didn’t mean anything safe and he didn’t understand the patterns yet.

“Open your eyes.”

_A hissed curse through gritted teeth, fingers shoving deep into eye sockets he tried to keep closed, tried to keep safe._

Sans squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, until his head throbbed and pounded. He covered his eyes with his hands, curling in to protect himself even more. “No,” he mumbled, panic surging wild and painful through him. His voice got progressively louder until he was shouting like the volume enough would make him _go away._ “Sans!” he shouted past the quiet rattling of his bones. “I don’t want to, I’m Sans, go away go away go away!”

He didn’t move until the only thing he could hear was his own ragged breaths, his back aching from being hunched over for so long. He wasn’t sure when he had ended up on the floor, but he had. Carefully, he peeked through the bones of his hand. No one. No one but him, just him, no scary-scientist-G or scalpels or needles coming to scrape everything inside of his head until the darkness took him.

Sans carefully uncurled himself, noticing the small cup on the floor that hadn’t been there before. He wasn’t sure what was inside. But it was creamy and brown and warm, and it was the warmth that drew him. He could never get enough of it in lab-inside. Picking it up, he cautiously stuck his fingers in it, sucking them clean. His eyes lit up and he quickly chugged the whole thing down, making a small hum at the sweetness of the drink. Scary-scientist-G still wasn’t back, and Sans curled around the small cup, breathing in the smell left behind. Maybe scary-scientist-G meant it. Maybe when he said he felt sorry, sorry meant something good. That would be nice, but Sans wasn’t trusting anything yet. He watched with wary eye sockets for scary-scientist-G to come back. He always did, and he wanted to be ready when things hurt again.

……

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. How could he have been so stupid? Gaster didn’t dare to peek through the kitchen door, not wanting to scare the little skeleton who just wanted him to go away. That was the least he could do after everything. Nausea surged, thick and choking, through him and he bolted to the sink just in case. He took deep breaths through gritted teeth, staring at his reflection just barely fuzzily there in the metal sink bottom. Gaping scars, sharp teeth, thin looming shoulders. The child - _Sans,_  Sans, he had a name - had run from day one, and Gaster couldn’t blame him. How could he have just assumed that it was reflex? That the screams of no and stop were just mimicry for some primal self-preservation instinct?  
He had messed up. He had messed up more than anyone had ever messed up before, and nothing could fix it. Blinking past the burning in his eye sockets, Gaster winced.

_Magic oozing out across smooth bone, pooling with tears and sweat until it was a diluted mess running out and dripping on the examination table. Screams he learned to tune out with quiet hums and spoken observations when he didn’t want data corrupted by anesthesia, filling up vials with the lifeblood of the skeleton on the table like he was nothing more than that one particularly unruly centrifuge that whined no matter how tight the lid or how perfect the balance was._

He deserved the term of monster. He deserved everything that was meant when humans spat it at them with seething hatred and toxic disgust. Gaster pressed his head into the sink edge, taking shaky breaths until the loathing had eased and the nausea passed. He wasn’t sure how long it took, but surely not too long. He hadn’t heard any noises from the living room, and Sans wasn’t prone to silence unless...he was running away.

Gaster pulled himself together, standing up and straightening his jacket. He wasn’t the one that mattered. Mustering his courage, he poked his head through the kitchen doorway. His eyes softened when he saw Sans curled up asleep on the ground, breaths steady and smooth. It even looked like he had drank the hot chocolate. He settled down on the couch, keeping an eye on the small child. He’d make this right.

He had to.


	2. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, full credit to tiny-scientists for this lovely little universe she’s letting me play with. This chapter takes place very shortly after the first one, though not all will be in sequential order.

Sans woke up slowly. He was aware of touch first, the feeling of something soft tucked around him. It was warm and cozy, and he curled into it with a small breath, soaking it in. It was safe, like that time he had made it a whole five minutes hiding under a desk before he was dragged back. The six-year-old shivered at the thought, pulling the soft-warm-safe-thing tighter around him. He knew he was still with scary-scientist-G, even if he wasn’t lab-inside. That meant things weren’t really safe, and so he would stay right here forever until he couldn’t anymore.

“You’re awake.”

Sans stiffened immediately at the voice, every inch of him taut with a breathless tension, like a rubber band stretched thin to snapping. “No, I’m not,” he blurted, without thinking. Experiments asleep didn’t hurt as bad. If he was asleep, he was safer, except when nightmares shoved their grimy fingers in. Nightmares at least went away in the morning. Scary-scientist-G was always there.

“Don’t lie,” scary-scientist-G frowned.

Sans didn’t have to see to know his face. He knew it like he knew the bright light above his cold examination table, like he knew the feeling of magic oozing and bones shaking. He was barely aware of the small keening sound he made as he shivered and hid further under the soft-warm-safe-thing, like that could keep him from the pain that always came and never really went away.

_Scar stretching from dark eyes, dripping like the shadows that clung to corners and nightmares all the same. Eyes as sharp as the scalpel, piercing and pinning him like a tight grip around his soul. Pointed teeth, awful fangs, pressed tight into an angry grin or drawn downward into an upset frown, both promising pain, both hissing words of warning and danger. Danger, not safe, not safe, hurt, not safe nowhere is not safe not-_

Sans wheezed as blue magic wrapped around his soul. It wasn’t as tight as it normally was, crushing and painful and threatening to crack something deep inside. He was far too panicked to realize that though, focused more on clinging tight to the soft-warm-safe-thing with shaking hands like alone that could save him. “Don’t,” he pleaded, voice small, trembling right along with the rest of them. A sob was gasped out as he curled into a little ball, just wanting not to hurt, tears splashing onto the floor.

“Take deep breaths,” scary-scientist-G advised.

_A mask pressed tight over his face, choking and thick air being shoved into him. Cloth shoved over his nose and mouth until he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even choke, panicking as a voice made calm notes out loud, something about ‘leftover response’ and ‘unnecessary’ until things got dim and fuzzy. Cold hand grabbing his soul and pulling it free, the other pressing down harder and harder and harder on his ribs until they creaked and threatened to splinter under the weight._

Sans obeyed. He sucked in greedy breaths like he was starved for them, like he might never be able to breathe again, the wheezing harsh and scared.

“Not like that,” scary-scientist-G corrected, eyes pinched and hands fluttering along the edges of his jacket. He took a few deep breaths himself, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. “Copy me, Sans. Make them even and slow.”

It wasn’t working. Looking at him didn’t make anything better, it never did. It was just a reminder that he was stuck, that he was hurt, that he was scared and trapped and bad and broken and helpless. Sans couldn’t hear the quiet curses and mumbled words past his hiccuping sobs and wheezing breaths, collapsing into shaky relief when the magic grip on his soul was released. He stayed in place, scared it would come back if he moved. Scary-scientist-G was like that, and Sans just wanted to not hurt right now.

He was aware of words being spoken, but they were fuzzy and distant. Eventually, exhaustion won out and mindless panic faded into trembling resignation, and Sans mustered enough of himself to cautiously peek his head out of the soft-warm-safe-thing that had become his refuge.

“Oh, good,” scary-scientist-G sighed, before clearing his throat and meeting Sans’ gaze. Sans’ eyes quickly found the floor instead. “You had a panic attack,” he explained. “I believe it’s over now, but it’s important that you try and stay calm.”

“...Why aren’t you hurting me?” Sans whispered out, staring intently at a small crack in the wood. He missed the flinch.

“I...I never wanted to hurt anyone,” scary-scientist-G answered, voice gentler than Sans had ever hear it. “I made a mistake. Like I explained earlier, I didn’t realize you were sentient. If I had, I wouldn’t have...done what I did.”

Sans hadn’t processed much of that conversation, to be fair. He had been lost in a haze of pain and panic at the time. “What is sentient?” he asked. If sentient meant that he wouldn’t have been experimented on, he wanted to be sentient. He’d do whatever it took. Sentient meant safe, and that was all the six-year-old wanted.

“Sentient means that you are able to think and feel, and make judgements off of those things. It means you are a person,” scary-scientist-G answered, slowly, like he was tasting the words before letting them out. “It means you are capable of learning and intelligence.”

Learning was something that Sans could do. He stuck his finger out, pointing to the thing held in the adult’s thin, spidery hands. “What’s that?” he blurted. He’d just start with one question, just to show he was learning. If he asked too many, scary-scientist-G might get mad again. If he asked none, he wasn’t sentient anymore. One hopefully would do the trick and not tip the balance to either side.

“This?” he answered, holding the object up. At Sans’ nod, he explained. “This is a book. I was reading from it earlier to try and calm you down.”

“...How?” Sans dared in a quiet voice. If scary-scientist-G was doing it, it had to be intelligent. He knew everything, all of the hiding places and all of the hurting spots.

Scary-scientist-G offered a smile, all sharp teeth and pointy edges. Sans flinched, and the smile faltered. “Let me teach you,” he said instead, placing the book down on the floor and pointing to a squiggle of black on white.

It was almost familiar, like a foggy dreg of a dream already fading as eyes opened, or an emotion stinging and aching inside that had no name. Sans mouthed along as scary-scientist-G explained, barely managing to keep the courage to stare at the thin white finger trailing across the page and pointing to things along its meandering destination. He still trembled, he still flinched, he still whined. But sentient meant safe, and so Sans was able to breathe.

…..

Gaster had firmly come to the conclusion that his education and research meant absolutely nothing when it came to his intelligence. He was an absolute idiot. Possibly the biggest idiot to have ever been born, which was saying quite a bit considering some of the people that he had met. But wait, no - that wasn’t fair to say. He couldn’t make assumptions about intelligence, he just couldn’t, not anymore. The guilt gnawed at him like a worm chewing through a grave, and Gaster stared at the sobbing child.

He didn’t know what to do. All he had done was offer gentle correction. He had made very specific efforts to keep his tone as gentle and nice as possible, something that didn’t exactly come easily to him, trying to speak softly like one would to a startled moldsmal. …Okay, he had also grabbed Sans’ soul, but Sans was a flight risk and always had been, Gaster couldn’t just let him run. That would cause far more issues than it would ever fix, panic seizing his own soul at the thought in a vice grip. No. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

It wasn’t until Sans was curled up into a shivering ball that Gaster dared to let go. It didn’t seem to make a difference - if anything, Sans seemed to curl even tighter into himself now that there was nothing restricting his movement. Gaster cursed, before biting his tongue. Was he supposed to avoid cursing in front of children? That sounded right. Tongue smarting and thoughts racing, the scientist struggled to solve the problem.

“Take deep breaths,” he advised, trying to keep his tone kind. Based on the way Sans flinched as if he had been physically struck, it hadn’t been kind enough. Kind was absurdly difficult to be, it seemed. The small skeleton sucked them in desperately, like he could never get enough of them. The whole thing was rather ridiculous, really. Sans didn’t actually need air, and multiple tests had proved that. It was a reflex, nothing more, but it was a reflex that apparently felt very real.

“Not like that,” Gaster corrected, frowning as he adjusted his jacket. He gestured to his chest, which rose and fell in a smooth and steady rhythm. _One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four._ “Copy me, Sans. Make them even and slow.”

Whether willful disobedience or overwhelming panic, or some combination of the two, Sans wasn’t listening. That really shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but still. Gaster just wanted to help. Cursing again and deciding to worry about that later, a steady stream of words best not repeated fell from his mouth as he scoured the room for something that could help. He resisted the urge to clap his hands to his head to try and block out the sounds.

_Wheezing, harsh and thin, ripped out of a broken ribcage. Screams petering out to breathless sobs and helpless whimpers, the child on the table too exhausted and drained to do more. Good. There was only so loud the music volume could go to block things out, and the skeleton had an annoying habit of being even louder. Quiet panting just barely loud enough to be heard past the clacking of Gaster’s shoes against the floor. One, two, three, four. One, two-_

“Stop it,” Gaster whispered harshly to himself, pushing one finger into the edge of the still-fresh hole in his hand. He cursed loudly at the sudden pain - that had been stupid. Though what else was new, really? Nothing. Not his stupidity, not the panic attack of the child on the floor - Sans had always been prone to those. Or, at least, he had been driven to that point. Gaster should know what to do. All he knew was how to make it worse.

...There was one thing that he could think of that might help. Grabbing a random book off of the shelf, Gaster sat down on the floor. He didn’t dare sit too far away from Sans - that little skeleton could move surprisingly fast when he wanted to. He focused on the steady cadence of black words on white paper. Black and white. The world so rarely was. But at least in this book on the usage of radulae in gastropods, there were no moral conundrums or nauseating guilt. There was simply science. Gaster guessed science must be as soothing to Sans as it was to him, because eventually he started to calm down, hyperventilated breaths shuddering to a slower pace. The scientist barely dared to move when Sans scooted closer, only moving one finger across the page as he taught him how to read. He barely dared to smile as he listened to Sans echoing along, voice quiet and hoarse, but there nonetheless. Gaster was finally doing something right, it seemed. He had a lot to make up for, but he was really getting through to Sans. That was enough of a victory for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I will be skipping around some, so if you guys have any ideas or scenes you want to see in particular, let me know! 
> 
> ~Aiva

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to check out tiny-scientists. If you have any comments or criticisms, I’m always happy to hear them ^^


End file.
